


Ain't the Sugar Talkin'

by agentmarvel



Category: American Actor RPF, Chris Evans (actor) - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Baking, Drabble, Fluff, Gen, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 04:55:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6891070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentmarvel/pseuds/agentmarvel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris wants cake, but it's 2 am.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ain't the Sugar Talkin'

**Author's Note:**

> For Mint<3

It was never a dull moment when Chris had a break from filming, especially when he was trying to get back to a regular sleep schedule.

Currently, he was draped over the side of the couch. With his long legs hanging off the arm and his head in your lap, Chris was fully engrossed in a game on his phone. You watched his eyes narrow. The tip of his tongue darted out to lick a stripe across his perfectly pouty pink lips before his teeth latched onto the lower. Every ounce of his energy was concentrated on whatever it was that he was playing.

“What’re you starin’ at me for?” he muttered, not looking away from his screen. You didn’t answer, but rather watched as the corner of his mouth turn up into a cute half-smirk. “You think I’m sexy, huh? Can’t help yourself?”

Again, no response.

“You wanna kiss me, huh?”

Silence.

“Oh, you want me to kiss you?”

Still no answer. So instead of continuing to talk, Chris reached up, cupping one hand around the back of your head. His fingers laced their way through your hair, and he pulled your face down to his, slotting his lips against yours in a sweet, soft kiss.

When he pulled away, a smirk settled on his lips and a comfortable silence settled between the two of you, Chris returning to his game and you to the article you were reading. Your hand was still resting against his chest, fingertips rubbing in delicate circles. The tip of his tongue was poking out between his lips, brows furrowed in concentration again. Little beeps and boops came from his phone, making the only noise between you until…

“Babe, I want cake,” Chris finally sighed. You raised an eyebrow, glancing back down at him. He was staring up at you expectantly.

“It’s two in the morning, Evans. Nothing’s really open-”

“Babe, _cake_ ,” he insisted. “C’mon! We’ll make it ourselves. S’not like we’re busy right now!” He flung his leg off the side of the couch and rolled off the cushions, landing on his feet. His mouth was set in a firm line, but curled ever-so-slightly in one corner when his eyes caught yours. The outer edges of his eyes creased with two lines radiating towards his temples. He wiggled his eyebrows playfully before leaning over to steal a small peck.

“Baby… Please? I. Want. Cake.” Chris stole a kiss between each and every word, ensuring that you’d give in and give him what he was after. You groaned as soon as he began to pull away, chasing after the feel of his lips on yours. He pulled a pouty face, shooting you an almost pathetic look. There was no way you could resist that, and Chris knew it.

You let out a hushed groan before conceding.

“Fine…” He thrusted both of his fists in the air, signaling victory and letting out a hushed ‘yes!’. You playfully rolled your eyes, shaking your head. Lowering his arms, Chris held both of his hands out to you. Once you placed your palms against his, he tugged you to your feet and began to pull you towards the kitchen.

“C’mon, c’mon. Get that cute butt of yours in gear! We’ve got cakes to bake!” Guiding you by the hands, he danced his way backwards through the doorway. The second he crossed onto the tile, though, he let go. Darting around the kitchen, he was grabbing boxes and bowls and spoons. You made your way to the refrigerator, taking out the eggs, then to the cabinet to find the vegetable oil.

By the time you’d turned back to the counter, Chris was already tearing into a box of cake mix. The bag came out easily enough, and he threw the now-empty box over his shoulder. He was grinning like a child on Christmas morning. It was pretty comedic watching a grown-ass 34 year old man get this excited about cake, and though you were a bit tired, it was worth the sleep you’d lose to see him like this. With the stress that filming put him under, not often was he this energetic or enthusiastic. It was very much so a welcomed change, even if only for the night.

 

*

 

After two hours of mixing up boxes together, wiping batter on each other’s faces (which Chris insisted must _always_ be licked off immediately), and trying to frost the cakes without make a huge mess (you both failed at that), you and Chris had managed to bake six cakes and three pans of cupcakes. Another hour later, you also had two fresh pans of brownies. Chris was adamant that those had to be frosted, too.

You were exhausted. It was a quarter after five by the time you lazily stripped off your powder-caked, frosted shorts and tank top, opting instead to steal one of Chris’ t-shirts out of the top drawer. He followed right behind, peeling off his own shirt and shucking his pants to throw on a pair of baggy grey sweats. The two of you settled into your respective sides of the bed, tucking the sheets in around you. Silence fell between you for a couple minutes before Chris spoke.

“Thanks, baby.” You raised an eyebrow and rolled on your side to look at him. His big, bright blue eyes were staring expectantly at you, awaiting a response.

“For what?” you asked softly, scooting closer to curl yourself up against his chest. His thick, sturdy arms caged you in, and he kissed the top of your head.

“Everything. For stayin’ up with me even though you’re tired as hell, for stayin’ with me even though my schedule is a nightmare, for bakin’ with me all night. M’so grateful for every second I get with you, and I don’t tell you nearly often enough just how much I really do love you, baby. I’m the luckiest man alive. Swear to God m’gonna marry you someday.”

“No more sugar before bed for you,” you giggled, kissing his nose. He chuckled back, pulling you as close to him as humanly possible and planting a soft, sweet kiss on your lips.

“Ain’t the sugar talkin’, babe. You’ll see.”

**Author's Note:**

> Harass me on tumblr: @sebeefstianstan


End file.
